


A Crow Among Doves

by ginamc



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-17
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-19 17:50:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 18,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1478623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginamc/pseuds/ginamc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During a first contact with the Argelians, a hedonistic race, Kirk and Uhura consume too much Argelian ale, which contains an aphrodisiac that draws them together for a night of passion and they face the consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was rare occasion that she actually got to go on away missions these days, given that the universal translator built into their communicators practically did her job. Thus she’d been overjoyed when the translator had failed time and again to grasp the intricacies of the Argelian language and culture. She could scarcely contain her excitement, a slight bounce in her step as she strolled toward the transporter room. Entering, she stood beside the pad, conjugating Vulcan verbs in her head to distract herself.

Moments later, Kirk arrived with Spock, McCoy and the young historian, McGyver, by his side. The woman looked as enthusiastic as she felt, though she imagined for different reasons. The Argelian culture was a treasure trove—a historian’s dream come true. No doubt McGyver was looking forward to exploring it.

Her gaze focused on Kirk, looking rather regal in his black dress uniform, the silver rank pips glimmering at the collar. His hair was slicked back, held in place by regulation gel, the neatly trimmed beard that he’d grown gave his strong jaw greater definition, creating a stark contrast with his youthful features. Standing at attention, he looked far older than she knew him to be.

She could easily imagine the man before her captured in an old-fashioned oil painting like those that hung in the hall of Earth’s greatest heroes in the Presidio. Despite their contentious friendship, she couldn’t deny that the young captain was unbearably handsome. It was no wonder women and men alike swooned when he flashed them a dashing smile.

Kirk caught her eye and grinned. “At ease, Lieutenant. You might sprain something.”

She fought back a smile at the familiar teasing. “Yes, sir.”

His smile widened and he stepped up onto the transporter pad, each of them following suit. Once everyone had found their place, he turned to the young ensign manning the controls and nodded.

“Energizing,” the ensign offered.

Over the span of several moments, the transporter room faded around them and was gradually replaced by the high ceilings of the Argelian grand hall. The room was a bluster of activity, halted by their arrival. A small group strode purposely toward them, the central figure beaming openly.

“Captain Kirk!”

Kirk grinned. “Prefect Jarvis,” he greeted. “And may I introduce Commander Spock, my first officer; Lieutenant Uhura, my senior communications officer; and Ensign McGyver, our senior historian.”

Jarvis bowed slightly at the waist. “It is an honor to have you among us.”

The away team returned the gesture, Kirk stating the traditional reply, “The honor is ours.”

Jarvis clapped his hands. “Come! Our feast awaits!”

They were then led into a smaller room that she presumed to be a dining room. A long banquet table lined the far wall, already partially occupied by other Argelians. Before it was a wide berth of space she presumed to be a dance floor. They were seated at the head of the table where Jarvis insisted that she switch seats with Spock, seating her beside Kirk, stating something about tradition.

Spock had merely arched an eyebrow and nodded, rising and then moving behind the chair, pulling it back slightly and gesturing for Uhura to sit. Smiling, she murmured a polite, “Thank you,” before sliding into her seat.

Spock pushed her in slightly. “You are welcome, Lieutenant,” he offered before taking the seat next to her.

Throughout the first course, she noticed the young Argelian male across from her making frequent eye contact, even going so far as to flash her a seductive smile. Her heart missed a beat at the heat in his gaze, his intentions now quite obvious. She dropped her gaze from his, her cheeks flushing at the blatant display, covering the rising whimper with a rather large drink of her Argelian ale. The stuff actually wasn’t bad. It had a flavor that reminded her of spiced chocolate blended with red wine. Rolling over her tongue, the spice became more prominent and she noted cinnamon and nutmeg-like flavors.

“Lieutenant?”

She opened eyes she hadn’t even realized she’d closed and swallowed the mouthful before turning in the direction of the voice. Sucking in a sharp breath, it took her a moment to realize she was looking into her Captain’s deep azure eyes. He gazed at her intently, his gaze slightly clouded. The flush from earlier returned.

“Sir?”

He swallowed roughly, his Adam’s apple more prominent as he did. “Are you all right? You look a little out of it.”

She released a shaky breath. “Yes, I—I was just enjoying the ale. It’s really good.”

“Yeah,” he rasped. “It is.”

She gasped in surprise when Leonard appeared between them, concern etched on his features. “Everything all right down here?”

Kirk cleared his throat and his gaze dropped from hers. “Yeah, Bones. Fine.”

Leonard then turned to her. “You good, Lieutenant?”

She nodded. “Just—just enjoying the ale.”

Hesitating only a moment more, he returned to his seat, though for the remainder of the meal, his gaze would wander to their end of the table on occasion, his expression thoughtful. The final course was laid out before them, an assortment of pies, cakes and tarts meant to draw tears with their beautiful presentation. She almost didn’t want to destroy the artful masterpiece by taking one, but her sweet tooth won out and she gathered two of the deep red tarts on her plate, then picked one up and took a bite. She couldn’t contain her moan of pleasure as the deliciously bitter fruit slid over her tongue.

Her eyes flickered open as she swallowed and she gasped when she saw the unabashed desire on Kirk’s face. Lips trembling, she forced herself to look away. What in the hell was wrong with her? He was her commanding officer and what was more, he was her friend. She didn’t have feelings for him—well, not serious feelings. A grimace crossed her features at the slight capitulation. Oh, God. Was she attracted to him?

_So totally not a good idea, Nyota._

Just because she and Spock had ended things, it didn’t mean she needed to jump into bed with another man, much less Jim Kirk.

“Lieutenant?”

She glanced up abruptly, forcing her breathing to remain even as she studied Kirk’s features. He held out a hand and glanced out toward the rapidly filling dance floor.

“Would you like to dance?” he murmured.

_Bad idea, Nyota! Bad idea!_

She nodded dumbly and laid her hand in his. “I—yes, sir. I’d like that.”

Flashing her the same dashing smile that could bring an entire civilization to its knees, he helped her stand and guided her toward the floor. Just as they reached their places at its center, the music changed to a slower paced waltz. She fought to contain a shudder they assumed the waltz stance, his hands radiating a warmth that had her craving them on her bare skin. As they danced, her hips brushed against his and she swallowed a gasp when the movement brought the evidence of his desire into contact with her thigh. Her gaze snapped to his, eyes wide with surprise.

“Captain, I—”

His mouth was on hers before she could finish, the dance of his lips speaking of desire and passion as they moved, enticing her to open her mouth to his questing tongue. The moment his tongue touched the seam of her lips, she was lost. She surrendered thoughtlessly to him, a soft moan escaping her lips as his tongue brushed against hers. She pulled back, gasping for air, leaning her forehead against his, her eyes closed to gather her scattered wits.

“This is a bad idea,” she murmured.

He nuzzled her ear. “Yeah. I know. But I can’t seem to stop.”

She sucked in a breath as he nibbled on the top of her ear, his tongue swirling inside the shell of it. “We should. Stop, I mean.”

“We should,” he agreed, but brought a hand up to grasp the back on her neck as he continued his attentions.

A shudder raced up her spine. “That’s not stopping.”

“I know.”

She pushed weakly at his chest, all the while arching toward his mouth and tongue. “Jim—”

“Nyota—”

At that precise moment, the waltz ended and she pulled herself sharply from his grip, all but sprinting toward the banquet table. She took Spock’s place, switching their plates in hopes that the others were so blitzed that they wouldn’t notice. It was a struggle to calm her racing heart even as she fought back tears of frustration. Thankfully, Kirk didn’t return to the table with her. She saw him sneak out into the grand hall, running his hands through his hair in evident irritation.

All but sighing in relief, she settled back into her chair and took a few swallows of ale to calm her shaking hands. God, but this stuff was good. Common sense told her that she’d had quite enough, but she couldn’t get enough of the feelings of warmth and giddiness that consumed her with each sip.

“Have you seen Jim?”

She squeaked, nearly jumping out of her skin. “Leonard! You nearly gave me a heart attack,” she complained clutching her chest.

“Sorry,” he murmured. “But the Prefect is looking for him. Something about a concluding toast.”

“The last time I saw him,” she murmured. “He was headed for the grand hall. Something about getting some air.”

Leonard nodded. “Okay. Thanks.” He paused a moment, studying her thoughtfully. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look kind of flushed."

“Just the ale,” she offered. “I might have had a little bit too much.”

Leonard arched an eyebrow. “Maybe you should stop drinking it, then.”

She sat the glass aside. Seemingly satisfied, he went in search of Kirk.


	2. Chapter 2

She fought to keep the dream from drifting away, but it seemed that waking up was inevitable. Her eyes remained closed as she clung to the warmth and safety of her dream lover’s embrace. Already she missed the sweetness of his kiss and the gentleness of his touch. A disappointed sigh slid past her lips as she opened her eyes, reluctantly preparing herself to face the day. It was then that she became aware of his arms wrapped possessively around her. The second thing she noticed was his morning arousal pressed against the small of her back. Adding two and two together, she came to the same conclusion that any reasonable person would: she’d slept with Jim Kirk.

She turned in his arms, studying his sleeping form for a moment. Bits and pieces of memories came to her through the haze—his mouth on hers, her mouth wrapped around his arousal with his hands woven into her hair, his mouth on her—. Shaking her head to rid it of the images, she felt a flush creep into her cheeks. One thing was for sure, she wasn’t the only one of the two with a talented tongue. She bit back a moan at the memory.

“Morning.”

The whispered comment drew her from her thoughts and the blush deepened. “Morning,” she murmured in reply.

Kirk grimaced and massaged the bridge of his nose. “What the hell was in that stuff?”

He struggled to a sitting position and leaned against the headboard, the sheet sliding away to reveal his bare chest. Her eyes trailed from his defined pecs down to the arrow of blonde hair that disappeared beneath the sheet. He cleared his throat and she looked up reflexively.

A smirk crossed his lips. “Enjoying the view?”

“Yes, actually,” she murmured, licking her lips.

His eyebrows arched in surprise. “No sarcastic comments?”

She shrugged. “We’ve slept together so I might as well be honest.”

He paused. “Not that I’m complaining,” he began. “But I thought I didn’t stand a chance in hell.”

Her brow furrowed. “I think it was the ale.  I think it acted as an aphrodisiac.”

“So what happened last night happened because we were under the influence of an alien substance?”

“Yes...I mean no...I mean...” She grunted in frustration. “Yes, you’re attractive. Yes, I’ve thought about…” She swallowed roughly. “But if I hadn’t drank that ale, I wouldn’t have acted on it.”

“Honestly?” He paused. “I wouldn’t have either. Not with you and Spock—” His eyes widened. “Oh, shit! Spock!”

She shook her head. “We ended things over a month ago.”

“What happened?”

“I wanted more than he was offering,” she murmured. “It worked for awhile. But in the end, I couldn’t be what he needed.”

His gaze dropped to their joined hands. “So—where do we go from here?”

She sighed. “I don’t know. I mean, there are just so many ways this could go wrong. Not to mention the Admiralty would have a fit if they found out.”

A slight smile turned up the corners of his lips. “Does that mean you’re considering the possibility of this being more than a one-off?”

Worrying her lip, she replied, “Well, we should consider ALL of our options, right?”

He laid a hand against her cheek, then tilting her chin upward, forcing her to meet his eyes. She opened her mouth to protest, but was cut off by the tender brush of his lips against hers. “In that case, you should have all of the facts in order to make the best decision.”

She released a shuddering breath. “Oh? And what facts are those?”

“I don’t want just one night,” he murmured. “If you’ll let me, I want to make love to you as often as our schedules permit. Hell, I’ll strand us on some backwater planet together if that’s what it takes to have you in my arms.”

“Oh, Jim,” she breathed. “I want that to. I just—I won’t be the reason you lose Enterprise. This is where you’re meant to be.”

He shook his head. “I don’t have to choose.”

Laying a hand on his cheek, she murmured, “Yes, you do. If the Admiralty finds out—”

“To hell with the Admiralty,” he growled. “I don’t give a damn what they think.”

“Jim, be reasonable. I remember what it did to you the last time and I never want to see you like that again. If that means we can’t be together, then I’m willing to make that sacrifice.” Her lower lip trembled slightly as she fought back tears. “We don’t even know if this is going to work. What if we take the risk, they take the Enterprise away from you again and we don’t last? Then you’ll be left with nothing. I won’t risk hurting you like that.”

His lips tightened. “So, what? We just forget this ever happened?”

“Of course not,” she whispered, brushing the pad of her thumb over his lips. “What happened between us last night was beautiful and is something I’ll always cherish. But we’re adults, aren’t we? It doesn’t have to affect our working relationship or our friendship. Please, Jim, tell me it won’t affect our friendship. I couldn’t stand to lose that over one night.”

Sighing, he replied, “No. It won’t affect our working relationship or our friendship. But I’m going to need some time.”

She nodded. “Come to me when you’re ready, okay?”

The two, noting the time, dressed and prepared to meet at the beam up coordinates.

*  *  *

They arrived a few minutes early to find Spock and McCoy waiting for them, the latter looking nearly as bad as Nyota felt.

“Rough night, Bones?” Kirk teased, a smirk curving the corners of his lips.

McCoy glared at him. “Fuck off,” he muttered.

Turning to Spock, she was surprised to find signs of fatigue etched into his features. Upon catching her gaze, the familiar green flush lit his cheeks and the tips of his ears. She stifled a laugh, wondering if Kirk or McCoy noticed anything odd about the normally unflappable Commander Spock.

“Enjoy yourself last night, sir?” she joked.

The flush deepened and she was unable to hold back a fit of giggles. As expected, this drew both Kirk’s and McCoy’s attention. Kirk caught on instantaneously, his grin widening.

“What in the hell’s so funny?” McCoy grumbled.

She knew the moment he caught on, his scowl transitioning into a grin matching Kirk’s.

“Why, Spock, you sly dog,” he laughed. “Who was it? That pretty blonde that sat across from you at dinner?”

Despite the flush, Spock arched an eyebrow and murmured, “I have no comment on the matter.”

Kirk chuckled. “You got him, Bones.”

“If you are quite finished,” Spock interrupted, a slight note of irritation in his voice. “I believe Mr. Scott is anticipating our return.”

Still chuckling, Kirk flipped open his communicator. “Kirk to Enterprise. Four to beam up.”

Within moments, the team was immersed in a shimmering light as they were transported away.


	3. Chapter 3

The next few days passed slower than usual. With the initial festivities over with, she was once again stuck on the ship as Jim and Spock handled the diplomatic details. There wasn’t much comm traffic to distract her from the boredom, which inevitably left her with nothing to think about but Jim Kirk.

She sighed in frustration, as thinking about him made her think about their night together. Details came back stronger every day, only making his distance more painful. The last couple of nights had been hell, the dreams depriving her of much needed sleep. Everytime she closed her eyes, she felt his lips on hers as he moved inside of her. God, she missed him.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up, startled to find her relief ready to take over her post. Was it really that late? Glancing at the chronometer, relief replaced the boredom and she strode quickly toward the turbolift, ignoring the curious stares. As the lift began to move, it occurred to her—Jim would be returning from the negotiations.

Pausing, she worried her lower lip, wondering if it would be too obvious if she was there to greet him when he got back. She shook her head. She’d told him to come to her when he was ready and he hadn’t yet, so—A sly grin slid across her face. She could always catch a glimpse of him leaving the transporter room. Just a peak to be sure he was okay. He didn’t have to know.

_Pathetic much, Ny?_

But she didn’t care. Just a peek. That’s all. Then she’d let it go.

She took her place around the corner from the transporter room, waiting patiently. It paid off when the doors swished open and he stepped into the corridor, smiling as he shared a joke with Spock who simply arched an eyebrow. A lump formed in her throat. She missed having that smile directed at her. Why the hell did she have to be so damn selfless?

“Nyota?”

She squeaked in surprise, nearly jumping out of her skin. “My God, Pavel. You nearly gave me a heart attack.” Drawing in several calming breaths, she continued. “What did you need?”

He frowned. “Commander Scott asked me to check on you. You’ve been behaving strangely. Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” she breathed. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

“If you are certain—”

She nodded. “I am. I promise.”

He looked for a moment as though he might argue, but a smile replaced the frown. “Perhaps Doctor McCoy can give you something to help you sleep, yes?”

“Good idea,” she blurted. “I’ll head there now. See you later.”

Without another word, she turned and strode in the direction of Sickbay.

*  *  *

Later that night, she found herself wishing she’d taken Pavel’s advice. Knowing that she wouldn’t be getting to sleep anytime soon, she donned her robe and slid into her favorite fuzzy kitten slippers, then headed toward the Officer’s Mess for a cup of tea, hoping it would lull her to sleep.

The empty corridors were silent, save for the wheezing of the air recycler in the background, the lights lowered to simulate night. She arrived a moment later, stepping through the doors and moving straight toward the food synthesizer.

“Chamomile tea, hot.”

The beverage was brewed before her eyes, a beep from the computer indicating it had finished. Sliding the drink from the synthesizer, she strode toward a table near the viewing port and lowered herself into the chair, taking a sip of her tea. She felt herself relaxing a little the moment that the mild, flowery brew splashed over her taste buds.

The sudden swish of the Mess doors opening snapped her from her reverie and she froze at the sight of Kirk standing at the synthesizer. He looked up and their gazes met for a long moment before he retrieved his beverage and moved in her direction.

“You couldn’t sleep either?” he murmured, taking a seat in the chair across from her.

Dropping her gaze from his, she shook her head. “No. Not since—” She grimaced at the slip.

He paused, a hand on top of hers. “Me either,” he admitted.

Shivering at his touch, she turned her hand and laced her fingers with his as they sat in silence staring out at space streaking by. Without her permission, a tear broke free of her defenses and slid down her cheek, leaving a wet trail in its place.

“I miss you,” he murmured, laying a hand on her cheek, caressing it with his thumb.  

She shook her head. “I miss you, too. But we can’t—we shouldn’t—”

He swallowed roughly. “Admit it. You’re miserable. We both are.”

“Please don’t make this harder than it already is,” she choked.

“Nyota—”

“I’ll have my transfer request on your desk in the morning,” she blurted.

He tensed, saying nothing for a moment, then sighed. “If that’s what you want.”

In a flash, he was standing and moving toward the doors, recycling his now cold drink before leaving.

The moment the doors slid closed, she buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking as she allowed the tears to flow freely, several choked sobs passing her lips.

*  *  *

Thankfully, he had enough common sense to rework the rotations so that they wouldn’t share a shift. True to her word, she’d submitted her transfer request, asking that it be affected following the completion of their current mission. Just because she and Kirk had had a falling out it didn’t mean it had to affect her professionalism. She had a duty to see this mission through. She owed the crew as much—she owed her friends as much.

If anyone noticed the sudden tension between them, they said nothing, though the stares were nearly enough to break her. There were only two conclusions to reach in a situation like this and she had the feeling that those who knew her best had already reached the right one. Sleep continued to evade her to the point that she could barely keep her eyes open on the bridge. The sleep aids she’d been receiving from Leonard helped, but only so far. Though she drifted off to sleep more easily, the nightmares inevitably woke her.

“Lieutenant?”

Her eyes snapped open and she blushed as she realized she’d been asleep at her station. “Yes, sir?”

He arched an eyebrow. “Might I have a word with you in private?”

The flush deepened. “Of course, sir.”

She rose from her chair and followed him stiffly into the Captain’s ready room. Once inside, the doors closed behind them and she slid into the chair in front of the desk.

Spock sat behind the desk folding his hands together. “Is there something that you wish to discuss with me, Lieutenant?”

She hesitated. “Sir?”

“Over the last 3.42 days, your performance has declined by approximately ten percent and you have made several obvious errors on your reports,” he offered. “Again, I will ask. Is there something that you wish to discuss with me?”

She swallowed roughly. “I’ve been having difficulty sleeping, sir. That’s all.”

Spock paused. “Computer, turn off all audio and visual recording devices, authorization Spock two three gamma delta eight.” At her frown, he explained, “This portion of our discussion will be off the record, as I believe I know the cause of your difficulties and it is quite personal, is it not?”

She nodded. She never could hide anything from him. “Yes, sir.”

A warm hand closed over hers. “I am speaking as your friend. Formality isn’t necessary.”

Again, she nodded.

“What is troubling you, Nyota?”

Five simple words, but they utterly obliterated every wall she’d been building over the last few days and the story left her in a rush. The tears flowed freely as she confessed everything to him.

“I had noticed the request in my files,” he murmured. “And am pleased you shared your reasoning as I had feared it had something to do with the ending of our romantic association. However, I find myself most aggrieved to see you and Jim in such distress.”

She froze. “You’ve talked to him?”

Of course he had. They were best friends, after all.

Spock shook his head minutely. “I have not spoken with him personally. However, I have become quite adept at reading non-verbal communications. He sits stiffly, tenses at the slightest touch and wears an unreadable expression, speaking only when necessary. It is clear something is occupying him and that it is quite personal. That coupled with the sudden changes to the rotation placing both of you on opposing shifts has led me to the conclusion that something had occurred between you.” He paused. “Do you intend to follow through with the transfer if he should grant it?”

“Yes,” she rasped. “It’s just too much. I didn’t want it to affect our working relationship or our friendship, but it’s clear that it has. He can’t let it go.”

“Then I wish you great success in your new position,” he murmured. “Your absence will not go unnoticed. In fact, you will be greatly missed.”

A slight smile curved the corners of her lips. “I’ll miss you, too, Spock.”

He entered a command on a nearby panel and his expression again became neutral. “Given your difficulties, you are not to report to duty for 24 hours. This is not to be taken as disciplinary action, merely concern for your welfare. Per Doctor McCoy, you are to rest in your quarters for no less than 8 hours and consume no less than three meals totaling the required daily caloric and nutritional intake in that period. Is that understood?”

She nodded. “Understood, sir.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Dismissed.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The corners of his lips twitched ever so slightly. “You are welcome, Lieutenant.”

The doors parted and she stepped back onto the bridge, leaving Spock to complete his report. 


	4. Chapter 4

After a meeting with ship’s psychiatrist Dr. M’Benga that same day, she’d been diagnosed with the beginnings of depression. Despite her protests, McCoy gave her a combination sedative-antidepressant.

“It’s just a mild dose and shouldn’t have any real side effects,” he  offered. “But come back immediately if you start feeling strange, all right?”

To her surprise, he hugged her, murmuring in her ear. “It’s gonna be okay, darlin’. You’re not the first person I’ve had to medically treat for a broken heart and you won’t be the last.”

Tears slid down her cheeks as she accepted the embrace, murmuring, “Thank you, Leo.”

With a smile, he shooed her off to the Mess, ordering her to have a nutritious dinner.

“I’ll know if you don’t do as your told,” he barked. “And I won’t hesitate to have Spock take you right back off the duty roster.”

*  *  *

She finished as much of her Tanzanian spicy porridge as she could stomach before heading to Sickbay for another dose of the sedative, then returned to her quarters in hopes of a good night’s sleep.

*  *  *

Relief flooded her when she awoke the next morning feeling calm and well rested for the first time in nearly a week. Despite this, she was glad to be going back to duty. The best way to get past this whole mess, M’Benga had said, was to keep busy. Doing something productive would be even better, she decided.

She washed and dressed in her regulation skirt uniform, then completed her look with touch of light mocha lipstick. It was subtle enough that she doubted anyone would comment and if it boosted her self-esteem a little, all the better. With her hair now tied back in a neat ponytail, she exited her quarters and headed for the bridge.

*  *  *

She exited the turbolift just in time to hear the last part of the conversation, striding to relieve the current officer on duty, then sliding into the chair as she listened.

“—contact Starfleet and let them know what’s going on. We’re going to need some time to investigate.”

Her heart missed a beat. That was Jim’s voice.

Spock inclined his head. “Yes, Captain.”

“I’ll keep you updated,” he offered. “Kirk out.”

Spock turned to her. “Lieutenant, you have the bridge.”

She sucked in a sharp breath in surprise. “Sir?”

He arched an eyebrow. “Mr. Scott is otherwise occupied as is Mr. Sulu and as fifth in command, I require you to take your post. Do you have any difficulty in doing so?”

She rose. “No, sir.”

“Then I leave the bridge in your hands.” Without another word, he entered the Captain’s ready room, presumably to contact Starfleet.

“Ensign Mathers,” she murmured. “Please take over communications until Lieutenant Baker arrives.”

With a sharp nod, Mathers took her station.

Striding uncertainly toward the Captain’s chair, her gaze locked with Chekov’s. “Maintain standard orbit, Mr. Chekov.”

The young navigator nodded, returning his attention to his console. “Aye, sir.”

She entered a series of commands into the panel on the Captain’s chair, reviewing a record of the communications from the last 24 hours.

*  *  *

It was nearly the end of her rotation and Spock still hadn’t emerged from the ready room. She worried her lip, wondering what he was doing in there. The urgent beeping of the communications console caught her attention.

“Lieutenant, report?” she ordered.

The older man frowned. “There’s been an attack planetside,” he murmured. “Hostages were taken—” His eyes widened. “Including five Humans.”

She sucked in a sharp breath. “Contact the away team.”

He entered a series of commands, pausing a moment before shaking his head. “No response, ma’m.”

At that moment, the doors to the ready room swished open and Spock stepped out onto the bridge.

“Sir,” she began. “We’ve lost contact with the away team.”

He nodded. “I received the notification. Maintain your station. I will gather a party and beam down to the planet to—”

“Incoming message from the planet’s surface,” Baker reported. “They’re requesting to speak with you, sir.”

Nyota vacated the seat immediately, standing beside him. “What do you think they want?”

“I am uncertain,” he murmured. “Put the message through, Lieutenant.”

Within moments, the blank screen was replaced by the face of the man she assumed to be the leader.

“I demand to speak with Commander Spock,” the man spat.

Spock arched an eyebrow. “I am Commander Spock. How might I assist you?”

A satisfied smirk curved the corners of the man’s lips. “I have your men and several other hostages. You and the Administrators will comply with our demands or I will kill them one by one until you do.”

“The Humans that you hold captive are officers of Starfleet and members of the Federation,” he began. “As such, if any of them are harmed, my orders allow me to detain you and your men by any means necessary and extradite you to face a trial and punishment for your crimes, which I assume include the homicide of two Argelian administrators.”

The man scowled. “You doubt me?” He turned, glancing at someone or something off-screen. “Bring me the Captain.”

It took every ounce of her control not to cry out as they dragged Kirk into view, one of the men holding him delivering a hard punch to his abdomen to halt his struggles, then dragging his head up so that his eyes met hers. A brief flicker of panic crossed his features, but was gone instantly.

“Don’t give them a damn thing,” he shouted hoarsely. “That’s an order.”

She winced as his words earned him a fist to in his face, blood pouring from his nose.

The glint of light reflecting off metal drew their attention as the leader produced a sharp, pointed knife and pressed it against Kirk’s throat. Her hands flew to cover her gasp as the edge of the blade produced a superficial line, blood appearing at the seam.

“I’ve sent our demands,” the leader sneered. “You have 24 hours to comply. Each hour you delay after that time will cost one of the hostages their lives, starting with him.”

Before Spock could reply, the screen went blank.

Forcing the images from her mind, she struggled to regain her composure, managing to do so after a couple of deep, calming breaths.

“I will need volunteers for a rescue team,” Spock urged.

Every hand raised. A smile curved her lips, not in the least bit surprised by the overwhelming response. Spock selected a small handful. Much to her disappointment, he gave her the conn.

“If you do not hear from us in 24 hours,” he ordered. “You are to contact Starfleet for further instructions.”

She nodded. “Good luck, sir.”

“With hope, luck will not be necessary.”


	5. Chapter 5

The wait was the most agonizing part. She had no idea what was happening down there or if they were even alive. The scenarios running through her mind only served to make her more anxious. What would she do if they didn’t come back? Her heart threatened to beat out of her chest as a wave of dizziness overwhelmed her. Drawing in and releasing several calming breaths, she forced herself to focus on the matter at hand. She was acting Captain and had to maintain her composure. For the sake of the crew, she couldn’t dwell on the possibilities.

“Any indication of what’s going on down there, Lieutenant?”

Baker shook his head. “No, ma’m. Something must be scrambling audio traffic because all I’m getting is static.”

“We still have zere biosigns,” Chekov offered. “Heart rates are accelerated, but zat’s understandable since--”

A sudden rapid beeping filled the bridge, alerting them to dangerous readings.

Chekov froze, panic flashing across his face. “Ze Keptin’s biosigns became weak suddenly.”

Nyota jammed her thumb against the comm button on the chair’s arm. “Ensign, do you have a lock on the away team yet?”

“I’m doing my best, ma’m,” the ensign protested. “But whatever’s interfering with communications is affecting the transporters, too. If we beam them back now, there’s an eighty five percent chance that their patterns will get scrambled and a fifty percent chance that we’ll lose one or more of them all together.”

Nyota tensed. “Keep trying. The Captain could be seriously injured and we need to get him back as soon as possible.”

“There’s a break in the interference!” Baker shouted. “I think it’s Commander Spock!”

“Patch it through,” Nyota urged.

At first, all she heard was the static. But she listened closer, able to make out Spock’s voice.

“Contained...Jim...seriously injured...needs immediate assistance. Spock...Enterprise...you read? In need of…”

She turned to Chekov. “Get to the transporter room on the double. See if you can help them get a lock. We need to get them out of there now.”

“Aye, ma’m,” he murmured as he bolted for the turbolift.

A tense silence filled the bridge as they waited for news regarding the away team. What Nyota knew to be mere seconds felt like an eternity. She was taken back to the Khan incident, recalling each heart-wrenching second as they waited for Jim to come out of the medically-induced coma, their fear that they’d been too late and that they might lose him after all the work they’d done to revive him.

“Transporter room to bridge,” Chekov’s voice rang through. “We have them.”

Nyota breathed a sigh of relief, a ghost of a smile forming on her lips.

“But ze Keptin is injured very badly. We are transporting him directly to the Med Bay.”

The smile faded and a lump formed in her throat, only worsening the ache in her chest. Dread consumed her as her worst fears unfolded before her. Everyone tensed at the familiar swish of the doors. She turned abruptly to find Spock striding toward her, his face an unreadable mask.

“You are relieved, Lieutenant.”

He didn’t need to tell her twice. She raced from the bridge, half expecting to hear him calling after her. But unless she’d misread the tone of his words, he was indicating that her duty shift was at an end. Her feet carried her to the Med Bay, every thought focused on Jim and exactly what Chekov had meant by seriously injured. She ignored the curious and sometimes rude stares of the people she passed, determined to reach her destination before it was too late.

*  *  *

She entered to a flurry of people rushing around the Med Bay. Sulu and Scotty were in the far corner of the room, the latter asleep and snoring softly. All of the attention was focused in the center of the room.

“Punctured lung and three fractured ribs,” McCoy assessed. “Jesus, kid. You’re a god damned magnet.”

A shrill, rapid “BEEP!BEEP!BEEP!BEEP!” filled the air and her heart sank.

McCoy cursed. “He’s going V-Fib!” He attached the palm-sized defibrillator over Jim’s heart. “Set for 200 joules!” A pause. “Clear!”

She watched in horror as Jim’s body convulsed from the shock, a choked sob escaping her throat as her knees gave under her. A pair of strong hands supported her and she turned, her gaze locking with Sulu’s. Despite her protests, he dragged her to a nearby chair. She collapsed into it, burying her face in his shoulder as he knelt beside her and hugged her tightly.

“Come on, kid!” McCoy barked. His gaze darted to the still beeping monitor. “One CC of epinephrine and set it for 300 joules!” He pressed the hypo to Jim’s neck and stood back. “Clear!”

No change.

She didn’t even try to hold back the tears now as McCoy ordered two more CCs of epinephrine and the defibrillator to be set at 360. Though she wasn’t a doctor, she was familiar enough with standard V-Fib procedures to know that 360 joules was a last-ditch attempt. If this didn’t work—She shuddered at the thought, murmuring a desperate prayer as Jim’s body convulsed once again. For a moment, the room was deathly silent and she feared that Leonard had been too late.

A faint beep caught her attention and she sucked in a sharp breath, not daring to hope until the beep grew stronger and steadier.

Relief flooded McCoy’s features. “He’s not out of the woods yet. Nurse Chapel, prep for surgery.”

Chapel nodded. “Yes, Doctor.”

McCoy turned and his gaze locked with Nyota’s as he strode toward her. “You should go to your quarters and get some rest.”

Shaking her head, she murmured, “If you think I’ll be able to relax at all with him here—”

“Go eat something then,” he ordered. When she opened her mouth to protest, he cut her off. “He’s going to be in surgery for awhile and there’s nothing else you can do here.” He then turned to Sulu, glaring at him. “Since you’re feeling good enough to be dragging grown women across the room, you can go with her and make sure she gets a good meal.”

Sulu swallowed roughly and nodded. “Yes, Doctor.”

McCoy moved toward the surgical suite, muttering under his breath. Once he was out of sight, Sulu stood and offered her a hand.

“Can you stand?” he murmured.

She nodded. “I—I think so.”

Taking his hand, she slowly forced herself to a standing position and then followed him toward the Officer’s Mess.


	6. Chapter 6

From almost the moment he was out of surgery, she was by his side. Even Leonard hadn’t had the heart to drag her away. Despite the utter success that had been his surgery, he had yet to wake up. She laid a hand on his cheek, brushing the stray hairs off of his forehead with her thumb.

“Please don’t leave me,” she rasped. “I can’t lose you completely. I don’t know if I’ll survive it. Please wake up.” Swallowing roughly, she continued. “I love you.”

The truth of her words scared her. Did she really? Pausing, she reflected on every one of their interactions over the last several years. With startling clarity, she realized that what had started off as dislike had gradually grown into affection, which had blossomed into such a degree of love that she was certain most people never felt it in their lifetime. She stared down at him through new eyes.

“You should get some rest.”

She jumped and turned to find Leonard standing behind her, his expression stern. “I can’t. Not with him like this.”

“It’s been a week, Ny,” he offered.

Tears threatened to spill over. “Please?”

Something in his gaze shifted as everything seemed to click into place for him. “Does he know?”

“No,” she murmured.

He sighed. “Both of you are just alike. Too damn stubborn to admit that you can’t live without each other and too scared to let somebody in.”

A choked sound caught their attention and they turned in the direction of the noise to find Jim trying to pull the tube out of his throat. Nyota grabbed his hands to stop him and his gaze snapped to hers.

“I know its uncomfortable,” she soothed. “Leonard can take it out for you, but you have to relax.”

His features softened and he nodded. Taking that as agreement, McCoy pulled the tube out slowly until it was clear. Kirk gasped, coughing harshly.

“What—” he rasped between coughs. “What happened?”

“You were taken hostage,” Nyota explained. “By a group of Argelian extremists trying to overthrow the government.” Her hand shook as she grasped his. “You were in surgery for hours. We nearly lost you.”

McCoy scowled as he examined Jim’s biosigns. “If you weren’t still recovering, I’d kill you. This is the second time I've had to bring your ass back from the brink.”

“Sorry,” he murmured hoarsely, making to sit up.

“You lay your ass right back down,” McCoy growled. “And you’d best make yourself comfortable because that bed is going to be your home for the next three weeks.”

Kirk’s eyes widened. “Three weeks?!”

“That’s if there’s no complications and you follow every instruction I give you to the letter,” he continued. “Which, knowing you, I doubt you’ll be able to help yourself. Best case scenario, I clear you for light duty in a month and you’re back to full capacity in three months.”

Kirk opened his mouth to protest, but Nyota cut him off with a glare. “You’re recovering from a punctured lung and three fractured ribs. On top of that, you went into cardiac arrest and Leonard almost wasn't able to bring you back. Be grateful that you’re even alive right now.”

He swallowed roughly and nodded.

“Good,” McCoy grunted, jamming a hypo into the side of Jim’s neck. “A sedative to help you sleep.”

“But I don’t wanna…” Kirk slurred. Before he could finish the sentence, he was unconscious.

McCoy then turned to Nyota. “I’ve been more than patient for the last week.” He filled another hypo and pressed it into the side of her neck. “A nutritious meal and eight hours of uninterrupted rest. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” she grinned.

She then stood and left, headed toward the Officer’s Mess.

*  *  *

When she re-entered approximately ten hours later, she heard a commotion coming from Jim’s private recovery suite and arrived outside of it just in time to see Chapel emerge, practically in tears. Releasing a deep breath, she stepped inside.

“I said to leave me a—” He stopped abruptly when his gaze met hers. “Oh. It’s you.”

“Yeah,” she murmured, sliding into the chair beside his bed.

A tense silence hung in the air between them for a few moments. Memories from before his injury came rushing to the forefront of her mind and suddenly she was unsure of what to say.

She laughed nervously. “This went better in my head.” Clearing her throat, she added. “How’re you feeling?”

He sighed. “Not bad I guess, considering. Hurts like hell, but Bones has me on some good meds for that. They’re making me a bit loopy and sleepy, though.”

“Don’t force yourself to stay awake,” she murmured. “Rest.”

As she made to stand and leave him in peace, he grabbed her wrist.

“Stay,” he slurred. “Please?”

Hesitating only a moment, she sat back down and his grip on her wrist loosened as he drifted off to sleep. She laid her hand on top of his and studied him as he slept, brushing a few stray strands of hair from his forehead. Overwhelmed by the silence, she hummed a lullaby from her childhood, her thumb stroking over the back of his hand.

 


	7. Chapter 7

Over the next three weeks, every moment that Nyota didn’t spend on duty or sleeping was spent in the Medbay keeping Jim company during his meals and being his support during his physical therapy sessions as he grew accustomed to walking again. The awkwardness had worn off after the first week and he started opening up to her in a way he never had before. They talked about his childhood, Frank, his brother Sam, his mother and the many infractions and stupid mistakes of his rebellious youth.

“Sam took off and I was pissed,” he murmured. “So I decided ‘fuck it’ and took my dad’s convertible out for a joy ride. Fucking Frank acted like he automatically inherited the damn thing because he married mom. He tried to get me to bring it home, but that just fueled the fire. By the time that cop told me to pull over, I’d gotten a taste of freedom and I wasn’t gonna give it up so easy. It was luck, pure and simple, that I jumped out of that car in time and was able to haul my ass back from over the edge.”

“Did he press charges?”

“Yeah,” Kirk replied. “Spent a week in a juvenile detention facility before my mom came home and kicked Frank’s ass to the curb for leaving me in there. All that bastard got when she divorced him was a bruised ego and a half-dozen broken ribs.”

She frowned. “How come that’s not in your file? The time in juvenile detention, I mean.”

“Because,” he smirked. “The records don’t exist anymore. I hacked and deleted them before I boarded that shuttle to the Academy. I didn’t need that shit following me, even if it was just Juvie. If I was going to have a reputation, it was going to be on my terms.” He sighed. “So what about you, Nyota? I’ll bet the craziest thing you’ve ever done is wear your hair down.”

“There was this girl at the school I went to,” she began. “You know the type—popular, beautiful, has to put others down to feel good about herself. Well, I never did find out why, but I was her favorite person to torture. Maybe it was because I threw the curve in almost every class that I took.”

Kirk arched an eyebrow. “Almost?”

“That’s a different story,” she murmured. “Anyway, I tried out for the school racquetball team and she just had to try out too to prove that she was better than me—which she wasn’t, by the way. She was the worst one there. Well, I made the team and she didn’t. Of course, she couldn’t let that go. She started talking shit about how the team was a big joke and that her daddy would make sure the school shut it down. I told her she was just mad because she couldn’t hit a ball to save her life. Then she started getting personal, insulting my parents, calling them ‘mapepo bila nafasi’—demons without souls. I lost it and broke her nose with my racquet. Sad to say I’d have broken more than that if the coaches hadn’t broken us up.”

Kirk laughed. “Wow. Who knew you were such a badass?”

She grimaced. “It’s not one of my proudest moments.”

“It sounds like she had it coming.” He paused. “So...almost every class?”

A grin spread across her face even as her gaze dropped to her hands. “My sophomore year, I got pressured into taking Home Economics. I wanted to take Mandarin, but my counselor said Home Ec. was required for me to graduate. I got a B because I forgot to turn on the oven for the cookies we were supposed to be baking.”

“Home Economics? Like sewing and taking care of flour babies?”

She arched an eyebrow. “Yeah. How did you know?”

He blushed. “My mom made me take it in middle school.”

“Seriously?” she gasped between fits of laughter. “Oh, God. I feel sorry for that flour baby.”

Scowling, he added, “Actually, I passed with a B. Would’ve had an A if my partner hadn’t chucked the thing at me during our final presentation.”

She gaped. “You mean to tell me you can actually sew and cook?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he grinned. At her disbelieving look, he confessed, “Okay. I can’t sew worth shit. I bribed this girl in my class to do it for me. But I’m actually a decent cook.”

She teased, “Prove it.”

“I’ll tell you what,” he offered. “Once Bones lets me out of here, I’ll cook you dinner one night.”

She laughed. “I’ll be sure to have Len on alert.”

“You’ll love it,” Kirk protested. “You’ll see.” He covered his mouth in a poor attempt to disguise his yawn.

“You should rest,” she chided. “Len will skin me alive if he finds out I’m keeping you from getting enough sleep. Besides, you have an early day tomorrow. Physical therapy at 0600.”

He sighed. “Oh, joy. See you in the morning?”

She nodded. “I’ll stop by first thing.” She brushed a kiss over his forehead. “Good night, Jim.”

Settling back into the pillows and closing his eyes, he murmured, “Good night, Nyota.”

He drifted off shortly after and Nyota exited the Medbay headed for her quarters and a good night’s sleep.

*  *  *

By the end of his fourth week in the Medbay, McCoy was releasing him to his quarters and had cleared him for light duty.

“That means no more than a couple hours on the bridge at a time,” he clarified. “You can do paperwork to your heart’s content so long as its in your quarters in your bed.” Kirk opened his mouth to protest, but McCoy cut him off, growling, “And if I find out you’re not doing as you’re told, I’ll haul your ass right back here and confine you to that biobed until you’re completely recovered. Got it?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“No,” McCoy replied deadpan. “And to make sure you do, I’ve asked Nyota to check up on you every so often.”

Kirk stiffened.

McCoy frowned. “Hey, I thought you two had gotten past that.”

“Apparently not,” he groused, then sighed. “I just can’t stop thinking about her. I want more than friendship with her, but if that’s all she’s willing to give, who am I to be greedy? I just—I feel different when I’m with her. Like I want to be better. I want to be what she deserves.”

Shaking his head, McCoy chuckled. “I always did say you felt more than lust for that woman. You, Jimmy, are head over heals in love.”

Kirk grinned. “Yeah. Never thought I’d see the day where I thought about settling down with someone.”

“That makes two of us,” McCoy joked.

“Shut up, old man,” Kirk teased.

McCoy growled, smacking Jim in the back of the head. “I’ll show you ‘old man’, you snot-nosed brat.”

“Hey!” Jim protested. “I’m still healing, you know.”

Snorting, McCoy jabbed the hypo into the side of Jim’s neck. “Oh, fuck off.”

Jim flipped him off, but McCoy ignored him and strode back to his office to catch up on paperwork.


	8. Chapter 8

Kirk was just getting dressed when the door chime rang. Pulling on his sweatpants, he called out, “Enter.”

The doors parted and he froze at the sight of Nyota, who in turn stopped in her tracks her eyes glazing over slightly as her tongue peaked out to moisten her lips. He felt the beginnings of an erection stirring and repeated the warp formula in his head over and over in a desperate attempt to keep it at bay, then cleared his throat.

Nyota’s gaze flew to his, her eyes wide in surprise. Her gaze then dropped to her feet, a blush suffusing her cheeks. “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“It’s fine,” he replied, fighting to keep his voice even. “What’d you need?”

“Len asked me to check on you,” she blurted. “But I can come back later.”

He shrugged. “It’s okay.” He grabbed a t-shirt and slipped it over his head. “Have you eaten? I was just about to see if Rand would bring me something. I can ask her to get you something, too.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to cause her extra work.”

“She doesn’t mind,” he grinned. “I have her bring Spock something on our chess nights if he doesn’t feel like making the trip to the Officer’s Mess. One of the bonuses of being Captain.”

Hesitating a moment, she conceded. “If you’re sure…”

He nodded. “What do you want to eat?”

“It’s spaghetti night, right?”

Smiling, he pressed his thumb to the comm. “Kirk to Rand.”

A moment later, the young yeoman’s voice came over the comm. “Rand here, sir.”

“If you could bring my dinner to my quarters, please,” he began. “And I have a guest tonight.”

“Would Commander Spock like his usual?”

Kirk shook his head. “Actually, yeoman, Lieutenant Uhura is joining me tonight and she’d like the spaghetti dinner.”

“Oh,” Rand replied, surprise clear in her voice. “Yes, sir. I’ll bring those by as soon as I can.”

“Thank you, yeoman,” he murmured politely. “Kirk out.”

Nyota sighed. “Well. That should add to the rumor mill nicely.”

He shrugged, pouring himself a glass of bourbon. “I’m allowed to have dinner with a friend without having to explain myself.”

She grimaced, murmuring, “So how are you feeling?”

“Sore,” he replied. “Tired. But other than that, all right.”

“Did Len clear you to be drinking?”

He grinned. “No, but what Bones doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

“Isn’t it dangerous?”

Scowling, he snapped, “What are you, my mother?”

Nyota’s lips tightened and she opened her mouth to reply, only to be interrupted by the door chime.

“Enter,” Kirk called.

The doors slid open and Yeoman Rand entered carrying a tray that contained their meals.

“Set them on the table, Janice.”

Rand nodded and did as he instructed. Straightening, she asked, “Will there be anything else, sir?”

He shook his head. “Thanks, but no. Dismissed.”

She then turned on her heel and exited the room, leaving Kirk and Nyota alone. Kirk gestured toward one of the chairs and Nyota slid into it, murmuring a ‘thank you’ as Kirk pushed the chair toward the table before taking the one across from her. They spent most of the meal in silence, though Kirk would occasionally catch Nyota studying him with an expression he couldn’t quite read.

“Do you want to go to the observation deck?” she blurted. “You’ve been stuck here all day and I know it drives me crazy spending too long in a small space. I’m sure Len won’t mind as long as you rest after.”

He grinned. “You read my mind,” he murmured.

A smile turned up the corners of her lips in return.

*  *  *

She took a drink from the glass he offered her, grimacing at the burn of the liquid as she swallowed.

He then poured himself another glass. “You’re scheduled off tomorrow, right?” he teased. “Wouldn’t want to be responsible for an intergalactic incident because you were hung over and made a mistake translating something.”

Scowling, she retorted, “I can translate in my sleep.” She shifted to get comfortable and lost her balance, falling into his arms.

“Whoa there,” he laughed. “Maybe you should slow down on the bourbon.”

Her gaze dropped to his lips and he swallowed roughly, his tongue peeking out to moisten them. “Uhura, I—”

Before he could finish, she brushed her lips over his, lingering for a moment.

“Nyota,” she whispered. “My name is Nyota.”

He froze. “This isn’t a good idea,” he rasped. “I don’t want you to do something you’re going to regret later.”

“I won’t,” she breathed. “Please.”

Unable to hold back anymore, he crushed his lips against hers hungrily, swallowing her moan as he teased her lips open with his tongue and dove inside. He was hard in seconds and had to pull back to catch his breath, leaning his forehead against hers.

“You’re sure?” he whispered huskily.

She nodded. “And if you ask me again, I’ll scream.”

He grinned and opened his mouth to reply when he was cut off by the familiar tones signaling a yellow alert followed by Spock’s voice over the comm., “All personnel to your stations. Repeat. All personnel to your stations.”

Clearing her throat, she breathed, ”I need to go.”

Dropping his gaze from hers, he nodded. “Stop by the Medbay and have Bones give you a hypo. You’re gonna need a clear head.”

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, brushing her lips over his stubbled cheek before turning to sprint toward the turbolift.

He caught her wrist briefly and his gaze locked with hers. “We’ll finish this later,” he murmured huskily.

Shivering, she replied, “Okay.”

As soon as his grip on her wrist loosened, she pulled free and took off out the doors and down the corridor.

*  *  *

She was scanning transmissions when she heard the doors to the lift open. Looking up from her work, she inhaled sharply at the sight of Kirk stepping onto the bridge in his command uniform with his usual confident swagger. Arching an eyebrow, Spock wordlessly vacated the Captain’s chair and strode toward the Science station, pausing a moment to incline his head at Kirk in greeting. The young woman at the Science station then stepped aside, allowing Spock to take her place as she assumed the secondary station.

“Report?” Kirk called.

It was Spock that spoke up. “An alien ship with unknown intentions is blocking our path.”

“No response to communication attempts, sir,” Uhura added.

Kirk’s gaze narrowed. “Like a cat with a mouse,” he murmured. “Sulu, evasive maneuvers. See if you can get past them.”

Nodding, the helmsman executed a series of maneuvers and, as expected, the alien vessel mirrored them turn for turn.

Hesitating a moment, Kirk ordered, “Fire a warning shot. See if that gets them to tip their hand.”

Firing a short phaser burst, Spock studied the vessel’s reaction. “The alien vessel is holding position.”

“Lifesigns?”

Spock shook his head. “None.”

“Eet is a machine?” Chekov squeaked.

Kirk nodded. “That would explain why we weren’t getting any response to our attempts to communicate.”

“Captain,” Spock interrupted. “We are being scanned.”

Before Kirk could reply, an explosion rocked the ship, sending him sideways into a rail. He clutched his arm tightly, gasping in an effort to think past the raw pain shooting through his nerves. Struggling one armed to a standing position, he rasped, “Report!”

“Damage to Decks B and C,” Spock offered. “Exposed sections are being reinforced with temporary shielding. No indications at the moment that the alien vessel intends to continue firing.”

Kirk snorted. “Their version of a warning shot.”

Arching an eyebrow, Spock began, “I—Lieutenant, are you conscious?”

Kirk turned sharply to find Nyota on the floor, looking dazed. He rushed to her side and helped Spock lift her into her chair, supporting her as he studied her features for signs of a concussion.

“Uhura!” he barked, snapping his fingers in front of her. “Say something! That’s an order!”

Her gaze locked with his, a scowl forming on her lips. “I’m fine.”

“Did you hit your head?” he murmured.

She exhaled heavily. “No, but I think I broke my wrist.”

“Williams!”

The young science officer looked up, surprise clear in her features. “Yes, sir?” she stuttered.

“Take Lieutenant Uhura to the Medbay so Doctor McCoy can take a look at her wrist.” He then turned to the ensign beside them. “Myers, you take over her station.”

“Captain,” Nyota protested.

The expression on his face left no room for doubt. “I’ll make it an order if I have to, Lieutenant,” he snapped.

With a glare that could melt steel, she allowed herself to be escorted off of the bridge and into the turbolift.

“Myers, send an encoded priority one distress call to all Federation ships in the area and keep an eye on the comm channels,” Kirk began. “Spock, you have the bridge. Let me know if they so much as move a muscle.”

Spock nodded. Without another word, Kirk strode toward his ready room, the doors swishing closed behind him as Spock took his place at the center of the bridge.

 


	9. Chapter 9

Her eyes flew open and she gasped for breath, her heart threatening to beat out of her chest. Gradually, the fog of sleep lifted and the dream came back to her bit by bit. A flush suffused her cheeks as she realized she’d had yet another sex dream about Jim. It had been much the same since their near-repeat of the Argelian incident three weeks ago, her nights plagued by some of the most erotic thoughts she’d ever had.

Grimacing, she reached her hand down only to find her panties completely soaked. Her eyes widened as she realized that she’d climaxed in her sleep. She couldn’t stop the giggle from bubbling past her lips, secretly thrilling in the notion. It was the closest she’d come to sex in weeks, so why shouldn’t she? Stretching, she turned to glance at the clock and her eyes widened for a different reason. She was due on shift in ten minutes.

Scrambling out of bed, she debated on whether to take a shower, ultimately deciding that the results of her dream didn’t leave her much choice. She reeked of come and there was no way she was walking onto the bridge with Spock’s extraordinary sense of smell a mere few strides from her station. Showering quickly, she donned a clean uniform and tied her hair back, barely checking to be sure each hair was in place before she bolted out the door, headed for the lift.

Fortunately, Spock and the Captain were behind closed doors in the Captain’s ready room, being briefed on their new mission. She slid wordlessly into the chair at her station, ignoring the looks Sulu and Chekov gave her as she did, immediately setting to work on listening for any unusual disturbances in the area.

It was tedious work, but would hopefully get her mind off of the dreams. But that hope was dashed the moment the ready room doors parted and Kirk stepped onto the bridge, her heart missing a beat at the sight of him all dark and broody. His usual confidence seemed to have abandoned him and dark circles surrounded red-rimmed eyes. He, it seemed, hadn’t been sleeping either.

*  *  *

Kirk ran his fingers through his hair and tugged the strands in frustration. Not for the first time in the last three weeks, he woke up with a hard-on that just refused to die all because he’d been dreaming of a certain woman that redefined exotic. There was only one way to make it go away. Without hesitation, he lifted his hips and shoved the boxers down his hips, taking his cock in hand.

The first touch of his ice cold fingers against the warm skin had his eyes rolling back into his head and cursing softly at the pain and pleasure of it. Unable to help himself, he imagined her laid out before him, utterly naked, the dark peaks of her nipples standing at attention and her head thrown back in complete abandon. He imagined burying his nose and mouth in her slick folds, licking at her juices as the spicy scent of her overwhelmed his senses.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his grip tightening as he stroked himself faster.

He imagined her screaming his name as he thrust first two and then three fingers into her hot sheath, suckling the bundle of nerves with her hands buried in his hair, holding him there as her hips jerked upward, fucking his mouth and his fingers simultaneously.

He imagined pulling his fingers away and replacing it with his cock, slamming into her over and over again until he felt her walls spasming around him, her mouth open in a silent scream as her body arched off the bed, her climax dragging him over the edge, wailing her name over and over, his arms shaking with the intensity of it.

A couple more tugs and he was lost, his cock erupting, come splashing his chest. He gasped for breath, his hand reaching for a nearby towel to wipe himself clean. Staring at the ceiling, he thought, ‘I’m so fucked.’

*  *  *

It wasn’t until his third glass of bourbon that he relaxed enough to confess everything to his friend.

“What the hell am I going to do?” he slurred. “It was hard enough just being attracted to her, but being in love with her? I’m screwed—in more ways than one.”

McCoy frowned. “What’s different now from five weeks ago when you first came to me about this?”

Kirk threw back the remainder of his fourth glass, then poured another. “You know all that shit about if you love someone let them go and let them find their happiness? I can’t do that—not with her. If she leaves, I’m not sure I won’t drink myself into an early grave.”

“Quit being melodramatic,” McCoy grumbled.

“I’m not,” Kirk muttered.

McCoy gaped. “Shit,” he breathed. “You’re serious?” Kirk nodded. “Well, hell, Jim. I’m not sure quite what to say to that. Have you told her how you feel?”

Kirk rolled his eyes. “No. She’s made it pretty clear that she doesn’t want that with me.”

“Are you sure she hasn’t changed her mind?” McCoy countered. “I’ve seen the way she looks at you. It’s enough to make even the most experienced man blush. It’s like she’s fucking you with her eyes.”

Kirk glared. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go there.”

“What the fuck do you expect?” McCoy snorted. “She’s a damned attractive woman and I’d have to be blind not to notice.”

“Don’t,” Kirk growled in warning.

McCoy shrugged. “You’re not doing anything about it. If she’s that desperate I just might.”

For a moment, Kirk was sure he was going to deck him on principle until his slow mind caught on to McCoy’s game. “I won’t be a one-night stand—not with her. With her it’s all or nothing and it seems like of the two, she prefers nothing.”

Scowling, McCoy urged, “A woman like Nyota Uhura isn’t gonna be won easily. She’s not like those quick lays you pick up at at bar that fawn over ‘the heroic Captain James Tiberius Kirk, son of the legendary George Kirk’. You have to woo the woman, show her that you’re serious about her and that she’s not just another notch on your bedpost. For Christsakes, Jim, I know you’ve never really been in a committed relationship, but I’d think even you’d have more sense than to think that they don’t take time, work and patience.”

“I’m going to bed,” Kirk murmured. “Take your advice and shove it up your—”

McCoy was out the door in a huff before he could finish.


	10. Chapter 10

She was in the Medbay for her annual physical and a check-up on her healing hand when it happened. Her life changed in the blink of an eye. McCoy had been performing a basic scan, murmuring something to Christine about increasing her dosage, when he’d frozen mid scan. The hand that held the scanner lingered over her abdomen as he reset the settings several times before his eyes widened and he cursed.

“Chapel, get me a new scanner and a monitor,” he growled.

Unfazed, Chapel slid a new scanner into his hand and set the monitor to the scanner’s frequency. Again, he held the scanner over her abdomen.

“Cut her dose in half!”

She sucked in a sharp breath. “Len, what—?”

His gaze locked with hers, his eyes narrowed. “You’re pregnant.”

“No,” she choked. “I got my last injection right on schedule. I can’t be.”

McCoy turned the monitor on. The sound of a heartbeat echoed in her ears. “That, Nyota, isn’t your heartbeat.” He held the scanner over her chest. Another heartbeat. Different. Slower. “That’s your heartbeat.” Then he slid the scanner down to her abdomen again. “Based on development, I’d say you’re eight weeks.”

Eight weeks. That was the night of the Argelian reception. She gasped as the world began to spin around her. “This can’t be happening,” she moaned.

The hiss of a hypo reached her ears just as every muscle in her body relaxed and the dizziness faded. “You had no idea? No morning sickness? No unexplained headaches?”

She sighed. “Some nausea and I’ve been sleeping more than usual the last couple weeks, but when I talked to M’Benga, he said they could be symptoms of the depression. Since I’d gotten my injection on time, I had no reason to believe otherwise.”

He studied the monitor for a moment before adding, “What happens from here is your choice.” His gaze locked with hers. “There’s no shame in not being ready to be a mother. You’re young and you’ve got a good many fertile years ahead of you.” McCoy’s features softened. “That said, you should tell the father. It’s your body, but he deserves to be involved in the decision. You might find that he’ll surprise you.”

Without another word, McCoy turned and strode toward his office. She knew she shouldn’t really be surprised. Of course he knew. No doubt Jim had confessed the whole thing to him weeks ago. Hesitating only a moment more, she slid off the biobed and moved to exit the Medbay.

*  *  *

She sighed, sipping the hot tea as she stared out the viewing window of the observation lounge. It had been nearly a week and she’d weighed every pro and con she could think of. The only thing she hadn’t done was tell Jim. In fact, they hadn’t spoken outside of duty since before the run-in with the unmanned alien ship. Sighing, she wondered if it wasn’t best if she just took a teaching position at the Academy.

The sound of footsteps startled her from her thoughts and she turned to find herself face to face with the very man she’d been trying so hard not to think about. They both froze and a tense silence hung in the air between them. It had never occurred to her that he shared her habit of coming here to think. She opened her mouth to start the conversation that she knew they had to have, but the words stuck in her throat. His gaze dropped from hers and he turned abruptly to leave. Swallowing roughly, she grabbed his arm.

“Wait,” she blurted. “I—we need to talk.”

Her eyes widened and she gasped, releasing his arm as though burned. Her hands flew to her abdomen as she struggled against the sudden pain shooting through it.

“Nyota?” he rasped, the panic clear in his voice as he rushed forward to help her. “Ny, what’s wrong?”

She clutched her abdomen tighter, whining, “It hurts! God, it hurts!”

Jim flipped open his communicator. “Kirk to Transporter Room. Lock onto mine and Uhura’s signals and transport us to the Medbay on the double.”

The pain was so intense that she barely noticed the shimmer enveloping them as they de-materialized.

*  *  *

They materialized moments later in the Medbay and she started when she felt a pair of cold hands settle on her waist. She opened her eyes just as they lifted her onto the biobed. Another wave of pain overwhelmed her and tears streamed down her cheeks as she fought the urge to cry out.

“God damn it, Jim!” McCoy cursed as he scanned her abdomen and took her vitals. “I’ve told you a million times over that those damned transporters aren’t safe for adults, much less pregnant women!” He took the hypo that Chapel brought him and slammed it into the side of her neck. Nyota gasped at the sudden pinch, but relaxed as the pain faded to a dull ache.

“Pregnant?” Jim breathed, his gaze locking with hers. “You’re—”

McCoy froze. “Shit. I’m sorry, Ny. I didn’t mean to—”

Sighing, she murmured, “It’s okay, Len.” She then turned to Jim. “Yes. I—That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Jim stiffened. “How long have you known?”

“A week.”

He ran his hands through his hair. “A week? And you didn’t think I deserved to know as soon as you found out?”

“I wasn’t sure what I was going to do,” she protested weakly. “I needed time to think.”

“You were seriously thinking about—” he growled, unable to finish the thought.

She nodded. “The thought had occurred to me.” He opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off. “Only long enough for me to realize that I could never go through with it.”

“I realize that this is a conversation that needs to be had,” McCoy interrupted. “But can you both shut up for a God damned minute so I can see if you need to be arguing about cribs and wallpaper or—” McCoy stopped speaking abruptly, his lips a thin line.

Both Nyota and Jim remained silent and nodded.

“Thank you,” McCoy muttered, exasperated. He scanned for a few more moments, studied the results and sighed in relief. “The good news is it's not a miscarriage. It’s something called round ligament pain, a result of your abdomen growing to accommodate the babies.” He froze, doing a double take as he checked the readings again. “Well, shit. How did I miss that second little booger the first time?”

“Holy shit,” Nyota gasped.

“Slow, deep breaths, Ny,” McCoy encouraged. “You’re going to hyperventilate.”

Jim shook his head. “I can’t deal with this right now. I—I need some time to think.”

Before either Nyota or McCoy could say a word to stop him, he was out the door.

McCoy turned his attention back to Nyota. “So you’ve decided to go through with it then?” She nodded. “There’s other avenues, you know. The adoption process is a lot more sophisticated than it used to be.”

“No,” she insisted. “They’re my children and they’re my responsibility. You’re right. I’m not ready for this. But they didn’t get a choice about being conceived and I’ll be damned if I’m going to give them anything less than everything I have.”

McCoy grinned. “You, Nyota Uhura, are one brave, amazing woman. Those kids are damned lucky to have you for a mother.” He paused before continuing, “So we’re going to wean you off the depression meds since we can’t be sure what kind of effect those will have on the babies and get you started on your prenatals. A high dose of vitamin D is a natural way to help with the depression that shouldn’t harm the babies. Also, your iron looks kinda low so we’re going to give you a little more of that, too. I want to see you for a checkup in three weeks. If you have any questions between now and then or you start to feel funny, don’t hesitate to come by before that. Got any questions for me right now?”

She shook her head. “I think you’ve covered everything for now, but I’ll let you know.”

“Good,” he murmured, pressing three hypos to her neck in quick succession. “I’ve given you the day off to rest. I expect you to take in three to five nutritious meals before your next shift and for you to get no less than eight to ten hours of uninterrupted rest. If you get antsy or bored, you can use the treadmill in the gym set at a mild pace for no longer than 45 minutes.”

She slid from the biobed. “Yes, sir,” she joked. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he murmured, a slight flush coloring his cheeks.

Laughing softly, she exited the Medbay and headed to the Officer’s Lounge for an early breakfast.


	11. Chapter 11

She stared at the door, her brow furrowed in thought. The courage that she’d gathered since leaving the Medbay seemed to have deserted her and she was at a loss for what to say. One thing she was certain of—even if he didn’t want to be involved, she was going to be the best mother she could. If her mother could raise three kids alone, she could raise two.

Releasing a heavy sigh, she pressed her thumb to the door chime and waited. A moment later, the doors parted to reveal Jim wearing only a pair of sweatpants. Their gazes locked briefly.

“I was just thinking about you,” he murmured, motioning her inside.

A tense silence hung between them for several long moments, but hesitant to start the discussion that needed to be had.

She cleared her throat. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to be involved. If you can’t, I’ll be fine on my own.”

He gaped at her. “You’re kidding, right?” he snapped. “They’re my kids. I’m not gonna walk away from that and let them grow up without a father.”

Nyota grinned wryly. If someone had told her two months ago that she’d be having this conversation with her Captain and friend, she’d have laughed in their face.

“My point is don’t do this out of some misplaced sense of chivalry,” she clarified. “It’ll only hurt more if you do.”

His lips tightened. “My dad died the day I was born and my mom dropped my brother and me with the first sitter she could find. I wasn’t even out of diapers before she was half way across the quadrant doing her damnedest to act like I didn’t exist. Through everything, I swore I’d NEVER abandon my kids for anything. I’m not HER. I’m NOT walking away. Ever.”

She nodded. “Okay. I suppose the next issue to talk about is us.” He opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off. “I understand that it’s going to be difficult, but we should at least be civil adults about this. Our priority should always be what’s best for them.”

“So just two people raising a couple of kids,” he muttered.

Shrugging, she replied, “What else?”

*  *  *

Jim sighed and tossed back the remainder of the bourbon. “I don’t know what I expected, Bones. She didn’t want a relationship before. Why would she want one now when things are so much more complicated?”

Frowning, McCoy offered, “Have you told her how you feel?”

“And have her think it’s just because of the babies?” He shook his head. “It would only make things worse.”

“Well, kid,” he mumbled. “You’re up shit creek without a paddle. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

“Perhaps a romantic gesture will validate your words,” Spock suggested.

Jim grimaced. “Normally you’d be right. But I don’t think that flowers or poetry are gonna cut it this time.”

Spock arched an eyebrow. “No, they won’t. I am speaking of something unique to Nyota and the love you have for her.”

He froze and a grin spread across his lips. “And I think I know exactly what.”

*  *  *

He was putting the final touches on what would prove to be the perfect plan to win Nyota over when Spock’s voice came over the conn.

“Captain to the Bridge.”

So much for that plan. Being the Captain of a starship really could be damned inconvenient. Sighing, he extinguished the candles and headed toward the bridge.

*  *  *

He exited the lift several moments later, his civilian clothing earning him questioning stares from his officers. Waving them off, he focused on Spock.

“Report?”

Spock took his place at his station. “An alien vessel trapped in what appears to be a minefield. According to scans, their propulsion drives are severely damaged.”

“The message is garbled at best,” Nyota added. “But I think they’re saying someone attacked them and they entered the minefield to shake them. ”

Jim nodded. “Options?”

“Ve should use a shuttlepod to extract ze damaged vessel,” Chekov suggested. “Eet is much smaller than Enterprise and can more easily maneuver the field.”

Sulu frowned. “There’s a chance whoever attacked them might still be hanging around.”

“No vessels on sensors,” Spock reported.

“Have Jacobs meet me on the Hangar Deck,” he ordered. “Spock, you have the bridge.”

Both Nyota and Spock stood abruptly.

“Captain, I must object. Protocol in situations such as these dictates that your place is on the bridge,” Spock protested. “I will pilot the shuttle.”

Jim shook his head. “I can handle this one. I need you on the bridge.” When Spock opened his mouth to protest, Jim cut him off. “I’m not arguing. Follow my orders or I’ll have your ass busted back down to crewman for insubordination. Got it?”

Arching an eyebrow, Spock inclined his head. “Yes, sir.”

Jim turned to enter the lift, but Nyota’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Captain,” she began.

Jim’s lips tightened. “I said no arguments, Lieutenant.”

“With respect, sir,” she continued. “Communications with the alien vessel have been vague at best. You’re going to need someone who knows at least the basics of their language.”

Jim glared at her. “Absolutely not,” he snapped. “It’s too dangerous.”

“I’m the best chance we have at communicating with these people.” she hissed. “Just let me do my damn job!”

Tension filled the bridge as the two stared each other down for several long moments. Scowling, his gaze dropped from hers.

“Fine,” he growled, then strode toward the turbolift.

Chancing a brief glance at Spock, she hurried after him.

*  *  *

“Kirk to Bridge,” he began. “We’re ready when you are.”

“Affirmative,” came Spock’s voice over the conn. “Initiating launch procedures.”

He glanced at Nyota, who was busy at her station, and shook his head. “Keep an eye out for enemy ships. Kirk out.”

“The message is clearer,” Nyota offered. “I think I can make out enough to communicate with them.” She entered a series of commands. “Building a translation matrix. Adjusting for pitch and tone...got it!”

“Open a channel, Lieutenant,” he ordered. A moment later, she nodded. “Alien vessel, this is Captain James T. Kirk of the Federation starship Enterprise. We’ve received your distress signal and are here to help you.”

The sudden tilt of the shuttle caught Nyota by surprise, tipping her from her chair and sending her sprawling into Jim’s lap. His arms wrapped instinctively around her waist to stop her fall and he froze, his gaze flickering to hers. Her tongue peaked out as she licked her lips and swallowed roughly.

“Thanks,” she murmured, breathily, removing herself from his lap and retaking her seat.

“Alien vessel,” Jim began again. “We mean you no harm. We’re responding to your distress call. We’re trying to help.”

Before he could finish, another violent shudder tore through the tiny vessel.

Nyota grunted in frustration. “I’m sorry, Captain. The translation to their language from Standard is just too complex. The matrix can’t make sense of it.”

“That’s where Starfleet’s best set of ears comes in handy,” he offered. “See if you can smooth things over while we prep the quantum beacon to get them out of there.”

Smiling at the compliment, Nyota began in their language, “This is Lieutenant Uhura of the Federation starship Enterprise. We mean you no harm. Please cease fire. Again, we mean you no harm.”

Another blast struck the little ship, disabling weapons.

His stomach plummeted as he studied the readouts. A large Klingon vessel was headed straight for them.

Another jerk and his console exploded in front of him, alerts blaring at him from every direction. With autopilot disabled, he switched to manual, hoping that impulse drive would be enough to evade the larger ship until Enterprise could come to the rescue.

“Incoming message from the Klingon ship!” Nyota shouted. She froze. “Vengeance is mine.”

A moment later, the Klingon vessel delivered the blow that disabled the impulse engines. Caught in the gravity of the nearby planet, they were entering the atmosphere with nothing left but maneuvering thrusters.

“Kirk to Enterprise. Can you get a transporter lock?”

Spock’s garbled response rang in the little cabin. “...believe so, Captain.”

“Do it!” Jim barked.

A moment later, he felt the beginnings of the transport process engulfing him. A sharp jolt caused his eyes to snap open. They were still in the shuttle. He turned abruptly to find Jacobs gone.

“Kirk to Enterprise. What’s going on?” Nothing but static. “Kirk to Enterprise.  Do you read?” More static.

Had he not glanced at Nyota at that exact moment, he wouldn’t have realized what was happening, the static from the comm drowning out the fizzle that indicated an overloading console.

Thankfully, his feet reacted before his brain as he threw her out of the way. Unfortunately, he was unable to spare himself.

“Gah!” he screamed as electricity surged through his body, frying his nerve endings.

After what seemed like an eternity, the pain subsided and he collapsed to the deck, the world going black around him.

*  *  *

Sulu slammed his fist into the console. “We’ve lost communications with the shuttle.”

Busy with their own group of Klingon vessels, the bridge crew could do nothing but watch in horror as a giant flare appeared where the shuttle had been moments before.

Chekov cursed a streak. “Niet!”

Spock froze, his grief and his anger threatening to consume him. He was just about to give the order to destroy the Klingon vessels when they suddenly jumped to warp and disappeared from sensors as quickly as they’d appeared.

“Spock to Transporter Room,” he began, struggling to keep his tone neutral. “Were you able to successfully beam Ensign Jacobs aboard?”

Scotty paused. “I suppose that depends on your definition of ‘successfully’.”

Spock tensed. “I see. I am on my way.” He turned to Sulu. “Mr. Sulu, you have the conn.”

Without waiting for the young pilot to take his place, Spock strode toward the lift and disappeared behind the closing doors.


	12. Chapter 12

Jim groaned as he became aware of a shuffling noise beside him. His eyes snapped open, but he immediately closed them, the light causing a sharp pain in his already-pounding head. He struggled to sit up, feeling for something to use as leverage. A pair of hands on his shoulders made him jump.

“Stay still,” the voice murmured.

He opened his eyes in search of the person, but everything was a blur. “What happened?” he murmured.

“You shoved me out of the way of an exploding console, remember?”

He shook his head. “Is that why everything’s so blurry?” A brief silence followed. “Ny?”

“I’m right here,” she murmured, laying  hand on his cheek.

He relaxed. “Were you able to get a distress call out to Enterprise ?”

“I think so,” she offered. “I only hope they were able to track it before the communications array went down.”

Again, he tried to sit up, drawing in a deep breath. A sudden burning  sensation in his chest caught him by surprise and he pressed a hand hard to his chest, struggling to breathe.

“Jim?” a voice called from far away.

Too out of breath to respond, he reached for her. Two warm hands cradled his face and her familiar scent invaded his senses. Gradually, he began to relax, gasping inhalations becoming shallow draws.

“Better?” she whispered.

He nodded.

The beep of a medical scanner registered.

“It’s a burn, mostly superficial,” she concluded. “As long as we can keep it from getting infected, it should be fine.”

Without warning, he felt something cold against the burn and he hissed in pain.

“What the hell is that?”

“Sorry,” she murmured. “It’s a dermal healing gel to help ward off infection. It looks like you have a couple of burns on your shoulders. I’m going to put some of the gel on those, too, okay?”

“Yeah,” he breathed.

She gently applied the gel, giving him as much advance warning, he realized, as she could about where she was touching him. Several moments later, he felt her hands working at his trousers and his hand flew to stop her.

“What are you doing?” he rasped.

“I really should check to see if you have anymore burns,”she breathed. “We can’t risk an infection. God knows how long it will be until Enterprise  finds us.”

He grimaced, feeling heat flood his cheeks. “Okay. Just let me—”

She removed her hand and allowed him to fumble with the buttons and zipper, helping him as he lifted his hips and pushed the material down to his ankles.

“I think I see another one,” she murmured. “Can you lower the waistband of your underwear a little?”

Inhaling, he pushed the edge slightly downward, stiffening slightly when he felt his arousal stir slightly.

“Relax,” Nyota soothed. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

He couldn’t help but smile at her attempt to lighten the mood. “Not something I can help, really. You’re a beautiful woman, Ny, and I’m a man after all.”

She laughed. “That you are. Did I miss any?”

“Don’t think so.” He paused, pulling his trousers back up and buttoning them. “What about you? Are you hurt at all?”

“I’m fine,” she murmured. “A couple of cuts and bruises, all superficial.”

He nodded. “The babies?”

“They’re okay, too.” She hesitated a moment before asking, “Are you hungry? I could make you a ration pack.”

“What’ve we got?”

“Fish,” she began.”Or chicken.”

He frowned. “Which do you want?”

“Honestly? The chicken. I hate fish.”

Grinning, he murmured. “I’ll take the fish, then.”

He started when he felt something shoved into his hands.

“Water.”

Feeling for the cap, he twisted it open and carefully lifted it to his mouth, taking a couple of shallow swallows. He then set the bottle aside and waited for Nyota to return with his meal.

*  *  *

Spock’s brow furrowed slightly as he studied the most recent orders from Starfleet. Despite knowing that there was nothing else to be done for his lost colleagues, he was hesitant to leave without them. His Human instincts overrode his logical mind, all but screaming that things weren’t as they seemed.

“Computer,” he began. “Review all transmission logs from timecode 1:00.45 to 1:32.49.”

A chirp echoed in the room. “Complying.” A pause. “Displaying.”

They’d been through this a dozen times in the last several hours, desperately searching for the shuttle’s transponder signal, continually monitoring the comms in hopes that either Jim’s or Nyota’s voice would break through the static. He himself had been present on the bridge going on 24 hours. He’d tried hours ago to relieve Mr. Sulu and Mr. Chekov, but they’d insisted on staying at their posts.

As he scanned through the logs, he noticed something unusual in the comm. traffic just before the shuttle’s explosion. Arching an eyebrow, he entered a series of commands and the file opened on the screen. There was a brief spike in the signal, so soft that only a highly trained ear would have been able to differentiate it. Even if the individual assigned to the console at that moment had heard it, only he would know it for what it was.

He pressed his thumb to the comm. “Spock to Mr. Sulu.”

“Sulu.”

His lips turned up slightly. “Form a search party.”

“Gladly, sir,” the young pilot replied.

*  *  *

Night was beginning to fall as Jim finished his ration pack (with Nyota’s assistance, of course, given that he couldn’t see his hand in front of his face and the fading light certainly wasn’t helping that situation). He hated not being able to see. It left him vulnerable. If a strange animal came across them in the middle of the night, his life was in Nyota’s hands.

“Don’t go all broody on me now,” she teased. “We’re each other’s only company, after all.”

The sensation of soft warmth pressed against his side startled him from his thoughts. He bit back a groan at the realization that Nyota was stripped down to her standard undergarments beside him. The familiar crinkle of a survival blanket echoed in the small craft as he felt it cover him.

“Trying to kill me,” he croaked.

He could imagine her smile as she replied, “Standard protocol, Captain. Shared body heat in an unknown environment helps increase the odds of survival.”

“Mmm. That what they’re calling it these days? Survival?”

A moment of silence hung between them. “Your vision clearing any?”

Opening his eyes, he shut them again immediately when he was met with nothing but gray blur. “Nope.”

“I’m sure Len will be able to fix you up when we get back to Enterprise,” she offered.

He grinned wryly. “If we get back.”

“Hey,” she protested. “What happened to ‘I don’t believe in no win scenarios’?”

He shook his head. “See you in the morning.”

She sighed at his evasion. “Night,” she murmured.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I decided the ending was too rushed for my liking. So re-do on Chapter 13 and we continue. :)

The trouble was where to begin. There was every indication that Jim and Nyota were still alive, but all they had was a possible crash trajectory with no survivable planetoids along its path. Spock’s brow furrowed slightly. Giving up wasn’t an option, so they’d have to search planet by planet, inch by inch.

One party would search by shuttle and the other by transporter, Spock leading the latter, leaving Scott in command and placing Chekov again temporarily in charge of Engineering. Spock strode determinedly toward the transporter room to join his waiting team. As he entered, he noted Chekov at the controls.

“Hiraku and Mr. Scott insisted, sir,” the young man blurted, his cheeks coloring slightly.

Spock arched an eyebrow and inclined his head, stepping up onto the pad. “Proceed, Mr. Chekov.”

Chekov re-focused his attention on the console in front of him, entering a series of commands. “On your mark, sir.”

“Energize.”

A single command entered into the console and the group dematerialized until the pad stood empty. Chekov then turned to station over to Ensign Demara and exited the room, headed for Engineering.

*  *  *

He’d found her in the night, he realized, as he awoke to the warmth of Nyota pressed against him, slowly recalling the fact that she was nearly naked beside him. He bit back a groan as she shifted against him, awakening his already half-conscious libido. Pressed against the back of one of the pilot’s chairs, he couldn’t move away when she threw an arm across his torso.  Trapped by the object of his every fantasy, he fought his instincts. His gaze dropped to her lips and he all but whined as he remembered how they felt beneath his in the heat of passion. A soft yawn from Nyota made him stiffen against her.

_Shitshitshitshitshit._

Her eyelids fluttered open and not a moment later, her cheeks colored. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, moving away.

His hand flew out to grasp her wrist and she froze, their gazes locking. She shivered at the naked desire in his eyes. Tongue peeking out to moisten her lips, she began, “Jim.”

But before she could finish, his mouth covered hers and she found her traitorous body unwillingly returning the kiss. His lips were rough against hers, claiming her mouth in a heated frenzy. She’d been kissed, but never like this. A whimper slid past her lips even as twin weaves of fire and ice raced through every vein and nerve in her body.

She buried her hands in his hair, her fingers clutching desperately at the strands. Her hands slid from his hair to the hem of his shirt, seeking the warm skin of his toned abdomen beneath it. Gripping the bottom edge, she whipped it over his head, drawing a frustrated groan from him when she had to break their kiss to do so.

Suddenly, he pulled away and leaned his forehead against hers, gasping for breath. “What are we doing here?” he rasped.

Soft hands cupped his face, forcing him to meet her gaze. “What we want,” she murmured simply. “What we’ve always wanted.”

It was enough. His lips again sought hers out, his tongue teasing the seam of her lips as he demanded entrance. She opened for him, moaning when his tongue tangled with hers.

*  *  *

Their stay on the planet hit the three-day mark and Jim thanked every God (and Goddess) he knew that the sun was rising, meaning that the temperature would creep back up within the range compatible for Human life. Last night had been even cooler than the night before and with the shuttle’s life support systems damaged beyond their ability to repair them with the tools they had, there was nothing but a thermal blanket and their shared body heat to keep them from freezing to death.

“Couldn’t we build a fire?” Nyota suggested.

Jim shook his head. “Not in the open. We’d attract predators.” He scowled. “If I had my eyesight, I might be able to create a temporary heat source. It would get us through a few nights. Maybe long enough for Enterprise to find us.”

“I can be your eyes,” she offered. “Just talk me through it.”

He paused before nodding. “First thing we’ll need is something to power it.”

*  *  *

Within an hour or two, he’d managed to talk her through the construction of the panel that would collect the heat. Next, they’d need to create the collection device. But that could wait.

“You need a break and I’m starving,” he offered.

She nodded, searching the ration packs. “Damn. All that’s left is fish.”

He shrugged. “We gotta eat something.”

“Fine,” she huffed. “But if we’re here much longer, I’m foraging for some real food.”

Frowning, he protested, “It’s dangerous out there, especially since I can’t see well enough to fire a weapon. We should stay with the shuttle for as long as possible.”

“In case you hadn’t forgotten,” she bit out. “I’m a Starfleet officer trained in how to survive harsh environments and it’s not like I don’t know how to fire a weapon.”

Jim scowled. “I’m aware of that. But you’re also three months pregnant. It’s not just you I’m worried about.”

A tense silence filled the cabin as she offered Jim his pack, helping him open it and consume the contents before moving on to her own meal. She offered him a canteen of water and he unscrewed the lid, taking several small sips, then handing it back to her.

“Let’s finish this,” she murmured. “The longer it has to collect, the longer the heat will last.”

*  *  *

Sulu pinched the bridge of his nose to stave off the inevitable headache. He’d gotten so absorbed in the search for the Captain and Uhura that he’d skipped lunch, a decision he was beginning to regret. Looking around at the others in his search party, he realized they were tiring and were most likely hungry as well. Sighing, he made what he knew was the best decision.

“I’m turning us back to Enterprise,” he murmured. “We could all use a good meal and some rest. We can pick up after everyone’s refreshed."

*  *  *

Spock had reached the same conclusion. He himself could go for an extended period without food or rest, but knew this wasn’t true of his Human colleagues. As much as he’d wanted to continue the search, logic dictated that rest and sustenance would be best for all involved.

He currently sat in the Captain’s Mess sipping a cup of chamomile tea. He’d ordered his favorite plomeek broth, but couldn’t find his appetite. With Jim and Nyota still missing, he found himself unable to focus on anything else. The closeness he shared with the two surprised him. An outcast, he’d become accustomed to not having the company of his colleagues.

The camaraderie he felt towards Jim and Nyota surprised him. They were, he realized, his closest friends among the crew. His friendship with Leonard was improving, but would never reach the level of connection he shared with Jim and Nyota. They were what Humans called ‘kindred spirits’—outcasts in their own ways.

He arched an eyebrow as a voice over the comm announced the return of the shuttle. No doubt for a period of rest and sustenance much like he’d insisted upon for his group. His thoughts returned to his missing colleagues and he only hoped that, wherever Jim and Nyota were, they were faring well and were safe.


	14. Fourteen

Jim’s eyes opened slowly and he was surprised to find that it was still daylight. He heard the familiar clink of tools and turned toward the noise, squinting in an effort to make out what Nyota was doing.

“How long was I out?” he slurred.

She jumped slightly. “Not long,” she murmured. “A couple of hours. You crashed after lunch. The adrenaline must be wearing off.”

“Probably,” he agreed, yawning. “You still working on that heat source?”

“No. Jury-rigging a comm signal to increase the odds that _Enterprise_ will find us before we either starve or freeze to death.” She paused. “Only problem is we’re going to need to get as high up as we can for the signal to reach.”

Jim frowned. “Like a mountain peak?”

“Yeah,” she replied. “If we’re too low, the signal won’t penetrate the atmosphere.”

“I don’t like this,” he muttered.

She scowled. “Fact is, whether you like it or not, I think it’s our best chance of getting back to _Enterprise_.”

“All right,” he conceded. “First light tomorrow morning.”

* * *

Spock’s initial certainty was beginning to waver and morale was getting worse by the day. With no new information or clues, he wondered if they would find their missing crewmates before the elements took their toll. The shuttle had been due to be restocked, but Jim had insisted that the rescue mission at hand was more important. The delivery and stowing of the supplies would have taken a mere couple minutes more and might have increased their survival odds just enough for _Enterprise_ to find them.

With the search nearing the end of its fourth day, it was more and more likely that they would be searching for corpses instead of living, breathing beings. Spock closed his eyes at the thought. The images of Kirk’s and Uhura’s lifeless bodies were almost too much for his control.

He opened his eyes, his gaze flickering to the comm panel in front of him. The time was drawing near. Despite his best efforts to remain focused on the search for his missing colleagues, the day would soon come that the instinct would become too strong to fight. Before he could change his mind, he pressed his thumb to the comm panel.

“Spock to Medbay.”

As he’d hoped, McCoy answered. “I’ve cleared out any unnecessary personnel and I’ve got a bed here with your name on it.”

Spock relaxed. “Your discretion in this matter is most appreciated. I will arrive promptly. Spock out.”

* * * 

He studied her naked form unabashedly as she bathed in the river. Despite his best efforts to focus his attention elsewhere, he couldn’t help but be drawn to her beauty. He hadn’t been surprised to awaken earlier that morning with her naked in his arms. Some dam had been broken when they’d been stranded here together. With odds increasing by the day that they were going to die here, a little sex seemed like only a minor sin, well worth the pleasure and comfort that they both seemed to draw from it. Her gaze locked briefly with his, but he didn’t waiver. A sly smile curved the corners of her lips before she turned away. 

He grinned, then stood and drew his uniform shirts over his head. Within moments, he’d stripped down to nothing and was wading into the water after her. His arms encircled her waist from behind, a hand sliding down to her growing abdomen as he laid a trail of kisses down her neck, his nose nuzzling the sensitive skin at the nape.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” she murmured. “If we weren’t in such a hurry--”

“We have time enough for a quick bath. Don’t forget to wash behind your ears,” he teased.

She laughed. “That--among other things.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he rasped.

She glanced at the sun’s position and sighed. “I hate to say it, but we should get moving. The days don’t last long here. It’ll take every minute we have to reach the mountains.”

Jim grinned wryly. “Nyota—”

“Don’t,” she murmured, pressing a finger to his lips to silence him. “It’s been nice, but we have to go.”

He nodded and pulled away, wading toward shore in search of his clothes. She watched him go for a moment, hating herself for hurting him again. It had been stupid to give in because she was afraid. If she’d only held out a little longer, he might have let it go and started the process of moving on. Now, they would both have to start again. Reluctantly, she swam to shore.

* * *

Leonard sighed as he studied the test results, pinching the bridge of his nose. _Helluva time for nature to come calling,_ he thought to himself. Sadly, the results confirmed it. Spock was two days into his Pon Farr. The half-Vulcan had been so certain he could avoid it or at the least fight it off. With no one else aboard _Enterprise_ to confide in, the young lad had come to him. Him of all people. How he’d become one of the hobgoblin’s closest friends, he had no clue.

A grimace twisted his features at the word. _Friend_. Guilt twisted his insides. He wasn’t anybody’s friend, least of all Nyota’s. He’d fallen in love with her boyfriend and a drunken confession had ended what probably could have been a happy relationship between her and Spock. Worse yet, the drunken night had only happened because he’d wanted to be Spock’s _friend_. 

He’d noticed Spock was uncharacteristically edgy and had entertained the fool notion that a little bourbon would loosen him up. What he’d failed to predict, however, was that Spock’s high tolerance meant that while he was buzzed enough to relax, Leonard was drunk enough to be surly and poor company to boot. He soon found the tables turned as Spock tried to find out the source of Leonard’s poor mood. That was when it had all come tumbling out—all of it. It wasn’t until he took in the Vulcan’s arched eyebrows that he realized what he’d confessed to.

It had been a week before they’d spoken again, and even then they’d barely exchanged a few sentences before falling into bed together. The moment Spock had told him about the break-up, a switch seemed to go off in Leonard’s mind. His lips had covered Spock’s before the half-Vulcan could utter another word. A slight flush filled his cheeks at the memory of Spock turning him onto all fours and initiating the first of many sexual encounters.

“You have news?”

Leonard gasped in surprise, jumping a mile in the air. “Shit, don’t sneak up on me like that. Damn near had a heart attack.”//////////

“Vulcans do not sneak,” Spock protested.

A tense silence hung in the air between them for several moments.

With a sigh, Leonard nodded. “It’s the Pon-Farr. Results say you’re two days in.”

Spock nodded tersely. “Then I have five days until its natural conclusion.”

“And what might that be?” Leonard drawled, his gaze narrowed.

Spock straightened slightly, his gaze dropping to his feet as he murmured, “My inevitable demise, of course.”

Leonard gaped. He wasn’t sure which pissed him off more: that Spock hadn’t told him this could kill him or that Spock was talking so matter-of-factly about dying. Anger warred with fear, the thought of losing Spock so soon after finding him making him nauseous.

“You didn’t tell me that before!” Leonard growled.

A slight green flush crept into Spock’s cheeks. “I had hoped that a suitable medical alternative would present itself.” 

A lump formed in Leonard’s throat. “There has to be another solution.” He paused. “Your mate—does it have to be a Vulcan and does it have to be a woman?”

Spock’s brows furrowed slightly. “There have been rare cases of relations among two male Vulcans ending the Pon Farr. I am uncertain if species will be a factor as there is no precedent. The main component of Pon Farr is the creation of a psychic bond that links two minds permanently. If one mind is incompatible, no such link can be formed.”

“Well, then, it sounds like we won’t know until we try,” Leonard replied determinedly.

Spock protested. “While the gesture is appreciated, you do not know what you are agreeing to. I won’t allow you to give up your happiness for my life.”

Leonard scowled. “I meant what I said that night, Spock. I can guaran-damned-tee you that I won’t regret a permanent bond with you.”

“I understand. However, I am not yet certain of my feelings on this matter and cannot risk subjecting you to an unrequited romance that you are bound to remain in monogamously for the rest of your years,” Spock countered. “I would not be your friend if I allowed you to make such a choice.” 

Leonard sombered. “It’s your life, Spock, and it’s worth any damned price to me.”


End file.
